If All Were At Peace...
by Zeraki
Summary: A Ghost commands an army that might destroy everyone in their path. But who is this Ghost, and why has he come here?
1.

The man flicked his cigarette into the ground, crushing it with his foot. The  
tiny flecks of charred tobacco spilled out onto the hard concrete.  
  
"Ah, man!" a marine pushed the man forward. He stumbled hard, and turned around,  
growling.  
  
"What?" he said, stepping forward to confront the marine.  
  
"Come on, man! That was my cigarette! You said you wanted a smoke, so I let  
you borrow it, and you only smoked half! You owe me!" the marine said.  
  
"So I did," he shrugged, settling back down in his hard steel gunner's seat.  
Looking out, he could see the sun casting rays over the horizon, light bouncing  
off the huge array of tanks, soldiers, and mobile fortifications. Metal upon tons  
of metal, steel and barrels shining in the sun.  
  
"What's your problem, man?" the marine asked, walking over to the gunner. The  
marine lay his Impaler carefully against the railing and sat down. The servos in  
his suit whirred for a second, and then were still. The gunner noticed a small  
green light painting information onto the marine's retina.  
  
The gunner looked at the marine for a second. A tall, but clumsy looking man  
in a suit of reinforced titanium steel. A Gauss rifle 'Impaler' class hung  
constantly by his side, connected to his suit with a long chain of metal  
shards. The gunner saw the name briefly on the nametag, 'Pr. Barkley'.  
They both knew that within a month, the marine would die a horrible death.  
  
Of all people, Murdoc knew most of the ways a marine could die, in and out  
of battle. Murdoc had seen marines die as zerglings ripped them apart,  
Zealots impaled them, Vultures blow them apart, and thousands of other ways  
a marine could meet his maker. A new book had been released a while back,  
"101 Ways an Imperial Marine Dies". How ironic that the author himself was  
a marine who died three weeks after releasing the book.  
  
Murdoc had one of the cushiest military jobs that Acturus Mengsk could allow.  
The egotistical bastard was efficient, to say the least, and eliminated most  
of the old desk soldiering. Now, the safest way to stay alive was in the gunner's  
seat of the new new flagship of the Terran Empire, the Norad IV. Or was it V? Some  
days he lost track of how many there were.  
  
Murdoc shook his head as if to shake something off, and smiled at the marine.  
  
"It's nothing. I was just thinking of my girl back home," Murdoc said.  
  
"Oh, well, that's fine. I've been thinking 'bout my girl lately. Wonderin'  
if I'd ever get to see her again. Man, is she the hottest piece of ass you'd  
ever seen! She-"  
  
Murdoc pretended to listen for the next forty-five minutes, as the marine  
proceeded to give out every last detail of his marine friends, the way his  
barracks were laid out, and every last classified detail to an unauthorized  
personality who didn't have official guard duty.  
  
He felt sorry for the marine. This was a man who had a life, and screwed it  
up. For punishment, the Confederacy slapped the neuro violence suppresser on  
him and he was subdued. Now, instead of being let back into the mainstream of  
society, he is forced to become a marine, translated literally as 'cannon  
fodder'. One of these days, he will die, and go as a single digit on a sheet  
of papar as a casualty. That will be the end of Private Barkley.  
  
Murdoc glanced at his chronometer, and cursed.  
  
"You know, Barkley, I gotta go. See ya later, man!" Murdoc said, and patted the  
marine on the shoulderpad.  
  
"Yeah, ok. See ya later then!" Barkley got up to his feet, smiled, and waved.  
  
Murdoc went down the steps from the tall wall that seperated Korhal City from  
the rest of this barren wasteland of a world and walked quietly through the  
halls of the most potent defence force in the world. Too bad it was all coming  
to an end.  
  
Murdoc slipped into his quarters, absolutely silent. The others of his temporary  
bunk room were all trainee marines, too stupid and tired to realize. Since the  
battlecruiser was in dry-dock, he had been given this place to stay in. He  
slowly lay down on his bunk, carefully making sure the mattress didn't make a  
sound.  
  
Murdoc reached into his pocket, and felt for a tiny knife. As he was instructed,  
he reached around and made a small slit in the mattress, just big enough to fit  
his hand into. Putting the knife away, he reached into the mattress, searched  
around a bit, and found a small metallic object. It was round, about the size of  
a penny. Quickly, Murdoc took out the tiny object, and put it into his mouth.  
Pushing it into the back of his molars, he waited for the tiny scanning device  
inside his left molar to analyze the datadisc and give him the information.  
  
Suddenly, before his eyes, appeared a map of Korhal City. It only included the  
defensive perimeter of the city, and Murdoc smiled slightly as he realized that  
most of this information was given to his superiors by himself. As usual, a low  
metallic voice game him his instructions, pointing to the area or areas that  
needed to be effected, and then gave him escape instructions. And as usual, the  
small disc bubbled and hissed into a small chemical that gave a resurgence to his  
more 'special' abilities.  
  
Murdoc left the barrack and walked inconspiciously back to his sentry point. The  
sun was about to rise now, dangerous for anyone to walk around unprotected. After  
the nuclear devastation of the planet, anyone who was foolish enough to stand  
outside without at least a marine suit on would be burned and radiated instantly  
beyond any medical help. It was a common assassination technique.  
  
Barkley was there, but this time holding a large dufflebag.  
  
"Hey, man! You left this here!" he said, holding out the bag and smiling.  
  
Murdoc glanced at the bag, and back at Barkley.  
  
Almost faster than Barkley could see, Murdoc reached behind him, and pulled out  
a small silenced canister pistol. Putting it up against the faceplate of the  
helmet, Murdoc pulled the trigger. Barkley's face disappeared in a flash of light  
and blood, and he crumpled to the ground. Murdoc looked at the body for a moment,  
then turned to the bag. The orders were clear: kill the one who delivers the  
package. Murdoc had done so without a second thought. He didn't even care that  
Barkely was dead, and that he had a girl, one who would never see Barkely again.  
  
Murdoc quickly unzipped the bag, and looked at what it contained. Smiling, he  
pulled up a black suit, which shimmered as he moved it. Placing it carefully  
on the ground, he pulled out the next item. A mask, but where the goggles were,  
it was fitted with several green tubes that jutted out chaotically. Pulling  
it over his head, he could feel his powers being focused and controlled.  
Finally, he was on the prowl once more.  
  
A few hours later, an attendant walked up to the Office of the Chief of Military  
Affairs. Saluting, the man snapped his heels tgoether, creating a loud echo  
through the long steel halls. A tiny camera situated beside the doors zoomed  
in on him, and then the doors opened.  
  
Behind a wooden desk, sat Edmund Duke Jr. He was a thin man of twenty-one,  
unlike his father, but the similarities of the face were apparent. Duke Jr.  
was a brilliant tactician, serving Mengsk since his father's death in battle.  
Duke Jr. was nowhere close to his father's brilliance in tactics, however,  
and made up for it with his absolute and complete knowledge of politics.  
Duke Jr. could have had Mengsk deposed if he wanted to, he could get Raynor  
to betray his best friends, he could probably even seduce the Queen of Blades.  
  
The attendant walked up to the desk and saluted. Duke Jr. glanced up from his  
work and frowned.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
The attendant stiffened and tightened his salute.  
  
"Sir! Message for you, sir! From the Emperor himself! Said it was urgent, sir!  
  
"Well then, let me have it, boy!"  
  
He reached up and held out his hand. The attendant gave him a small datadisc,  
and gave a slight smile.  
  
For a moment there, Duke Jr. could have sworn another face had transposed  
itself on top of the attendant's face. Duke Jr. blinked, and it was gone.  
Shaking his head as if to clear something, he looked at the attendant again,  
who gave a frown.  
  
"Is something wrong, sir?"  
  
"Yes, now wipe that mad grin off your face and get the hell out of my office!"  
  
"Sir!" and with that, the attendant saluted, and left.  
  
Duke Jr. popped the datadisc into the reader, and the 3d hologram projecter  
came online with a whir. Duke Jr. was surprised when the face he had seen  
transposed on the attendant's face floated in air, smiling, instead of  
Acturus'.  
  
"Good morning, Chief. I believe you were expecting the honorary Emperor,  
but no such good look for you exists. And don't try looking for the attendant,  
he was dead half an hour ago. You'll find him in a month or two."  
  
Duke Jr. was pounding on security camera screens, looking for the attendant  
who had given him the message. But he had just disappeared.  
  
"Now, onto our main subject," he continued. "My name is Murdoc. You don't  
know me from my real name, but you might have heard such terms as the  
Doctor, Professor Murder, or M.D. Death."   
  
Duke Jr. gasped and grabbed his gun, cocking it. The Doctor had assassinated  
more than fifty Dominion officers in the course of three months, all so devious  
and well-planned any Ghost would envy his efficiency. The Doctor was an expert  
at demolitions, sharpshooting, and especially torturing and mutilating the  
human body. A rumor said that he had escaped from an infested Terran command  
center, thus learning the utter horrors of Zerg control.  
  
"You see, Mr. Duke Jr., the Camra sector has been ruled under both the   
Dominion, the remains of the Confederacy,and even the Zerg. We have switched   
sides for many a time, and are not happy at all about it. So, to rap it all   
up, let me make this statement: the Camra sector, and all worlds, colonies,  
cities, ships, military detachments,and citizens thereof, declare its   
independance from the Terran Dominion, and request for the official arrest   
of Acturus Mengsk for charges of treason,mass murder, genocide, and withholding   
necessary information and supplies."  
  
At the moment that Murdoc had said independance, a shockwave rumbled through  
Duke Jr.'s office. Half of his secuirty cameras saw a flash of fire and then  
went blank. Guards ran around in panic, while others screamed in pain and fear.  
One was seen crawling across hallway, his legs completely gone, trailing two  
streams of blood.  
  
In the barrack rooms, long hallways with doors on either side, it was absolute  
slaughter. Each door had been affixed a tiny explosive device. Each door exploded,  
and the soldiers were blown away. Those that survived died as the nerve gas  
seeped into their systems. Smoke spilled out from every available orifice to  
the outside.  
  
In the Wraith hangar, two explosions went off. One, near the Wraith energy  
refueling station, and one near the armoury. The Wraith cloaking energy battery  
went nova as it exploded, destroying the whole Wraith hangar and damaging the  
battlecruiser hangar severely enough so as to disable the hangar bay doors.  
The whole air force of the defence of the capitol city was shut down in .3  
seconds.  
  
Other, stronger bombs went off, but mainly to take out the heavier fortifications.  
By now, a huge portion of the marines and the air force, the two major   
contending forces in any invasion of Korhal City, had gone out. The   
Arclites were easy to takecare of from above, and without marines, the   
machines had no backup.  
  
After the explosions had rocked the base, Duke Jr. struggled out from   
under the desk, his gauss pistol held in tight fingers. Looking around  
carefully, Duke Jr. flipped onto the commander's tac net.  
  
"Report," he said, and a huge wave of information flowed in.  
  
"Sir! We have FTL drive signatures at Trojan point 3! Numbers coming  
in! Dear god, sir...we're lost."  
  
"Don't say that! Continue!"  
  
"Three hundred battlecruisers, a thousand Wraiths, uncountable  
number of Dropships, we...can't win. We can't win! We're all going to die!  
All of us! No one will live! Aaaah!"  
  
"Calm down! Calm down! Calm-"  
  
Duke Jr. heard a gunshot, and then the sound of a body slump against the  
ground. Duke Jr. flipped to a combat camera, and felt absolute terror.  
  
Falling from the sky, tens of thousands of dropships. Troops, marines,  
firebats, missiles, guns...his troops falling back on all fronts...  
fortifications breached...nuclear missiles impacting...nuclear silos  
disabled...casualties mounting...units destroyed...utter chaos...it's  
over.  
  
It's over.  
  
It's over.  
  
Murdoc smiled as he watched his troops pour into Korhal, claiming it as  
their own. He needed more, more, more! This wasn't enough. The Camra was  
only a scam to get soldiers, and now he had soldiers. He had to have more  
money, more troops, more worlds. He would conquer both the Zerg and Protoss!  
He would return to Earth, victorious, a thousand worlds behind his back,  
the skulls of thousands piled up for his throne. He would make Kerrigan  
his bitch, make her his slave. He would make Zeratul cry out for mercy,  
for death. He would make Earth his trophy, and the galaxy his crown.  
  
It's not over. It had just begun. 


	2. Kerrigan and Murdoc Meet Once Again

The overlord paused, stopping right in the enormous fleet's path.  
  
Murdoc smiled slightly, and turned in his cushioned chair towards the  
Communications Officer. The comms officer held a hand to the bug in his  
ear, nodded, then turned to Murdoc.  
  
"Sir, all science vessels reporting no other Zerg units within thirty  
kilometers. The Overlord seems to be alone, sir. No units detected in   
the creature's transportation sacs."  
  
"They're called ventral sacs, Lieutenant," Murdoc said, leaning forward  
in his chair. The leather in his Fleet Commander's uniform creaked  
slightly as he shifted his position in the chair. Looking deep into  
the small, red, beady eyes of this creature, who had carried troops and  
alien creatures across uncountable starsystems, he cocked his head to  
one side slightly. He could almost hear Kerrigan and rival ceribrates  
whispering orders and propaganda into its tiny brain.  
  
Standing up, he cleared his throat. On the bridge, everyone stood at  
their consoles, ready to give whatever order that Murdoc deemed to  
be prudent.  
  
"Open all comm frequencies! Relay this message to Char, the overlord,  
and the fleet as well!"  
  
"Yes sir!" the bridge crew yelled, and began to do their duties. A low  
humm of machines working and people speaking into comm units filled the   
air.  
  
Murdoc was proud of his bridge crew. They weren't even his originally,  
being the property of some Admiral or Commander or whatever that had  
gone down in battle. Bridge crews, especially those on huge flagships,  
were highly prized and jealously guarded. Their efficiency, quick  
thinking, and brilliant specific skills have saved many a commander's  
lives and have turned the tide of battle more than once.  
  
The comms officer stood up, and saluted to Murdoc.  
  
"Sir, all is ready," the officer said, and Murdoc nodded thoughtfully.  
  
"Good, good. Now sit down, I have work to accomplish. Everyone, quiet."  
  
Murdoc keyed his comm, and waited for a few seconds before beginning.  
  
"Kerrigan. I have come here with an ultimatum."  
  
Suddenly, the viewscreen twisted and shifted, and the overlord and  
Char was replaced by the visage of the Queen of Blades.  
  
She sat upon a pile of human bones, crudely formed into a throne.  
Around her, steel was seen through translucent slimy ooze that pulsed  
with a life of its own. Purple and blue veins were seen through the  
goo, pulsing with a beat that Murdoc could feel in his psychic self.  
The place resembled a Terran command center's control room, except  
the chairs, readout monitors, and consoles had all been ripped out.  
Moans and whimpers, followed by the occasional subhuman scream  
could be heard.  
  
"Murdoc. How nice to see you again! How have you been doing all  
these years?" she asked, smiling. Her fangs showed through her  
purple lips. The Queen of Blades playfully crossed her legs and  
placed both hands on her upper knee.  
  
"Fine, just fine, good Queen. The Zerg transplants have almost  
been flushed from my system," Murdoc said, smiling sarcastically.  
  
"Oh," she said, pouting. She placed her hands on her hips. "I  
thought I could have a little fun, with you as my little Zergling."  
  
Murdoc smiled sarcastically.  
  
"I did not come here, Kerrigan, to play games."  
  
"No? Then why did you come to this world, if not to try and conquer  
it?"  
  
Murdoc glared at her, and she held up her fingers, counting off as  
she said each name.  
  
"Raynor, Tassadar, Mengsk, Duke, Duke Jr., Fenix, Aldaris,  
Zeratul, Daggoth, the Overmind, umm...am I forgetting anybody?"  
  
"Enough!" Murdoc roared.  
  
Kerrigan's smile dropped, and her voice became serious.  
  
"All who have challenged me have died, or have been lost in the  
ages of the universe. In the last war, Raynor disappeared, Zeratul  
was bested, and Duke and Fenix were both killed. Shall you be  
like them?"  
  
"Kerrigan, I would like to meet with you."  
  
Kerrigan's eyes opened wide, and a grin appeared on her face.  
  
"Oh, I am so flattered! No one's come to visit my house in such  
a long, long time. I'll clean up my room for you, Murdoc!"  
  
"Yes, Kerrigan, we shall meet, because I have a business  
proposition to discuss with the Queen of Blades and her broods. We  
all know how mighty and powerful she is, and-"  
  
"Murdoc," she said, once again serious. "I trust you less than I would  
trust myself, if I was not myself. That pretty much translates to that no  
matter how you came into my defence screen, the chances of you  
actually getting out without my permission would be astronomical.  
And don't try any of the psi machines, or I will waste your fleet to  
ashes! My overlords are not affected, and hyrdalisks are very  
effective in ship combat."  
  
"Kerrigan, I myself will personally disembark from a transport half a  
kilometer from your creature. Then, I will float to your overlord, and  
it will pick me up in its ventral sacs. You will transport me to the surface,  
and we will talk. Is that how you wish to proceed?"  
  
Kerrigan smiled, and clapped her hands once.  
  
"Oh boy, oh boy! Friends over at my own house!"  
  
The transmission ended abruptly, and there were a few snickers among  
the bridge crew.  
  
"Let's go," Murdoc said, and walked out of the bridge. 


End file.
